


Shut Up, Jaskier

by valdomarx (cptxrogers)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/valdomarx
Summary: That day, he was amazed to discover that when Geralt was saying "Shut up, Jaskier," what he meant was, "I love you."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 576





	Shut Up, Jaskier

**Author's Note:**

> Thought it was time I posted some of my fics over here on AO3. Hullo new fandom!  
> Find me on tumblr at [valdomarx](https://valdomarx.tumblr.com/).

Some tumbledown inn in some shithole town, watery beer, bread like rock, the stench of too many bodies pressed into a small space. The usual.

And yet there’s Jaskier, strumming away on his lute like he’s in full concert performance, enchanting the locals with a radically embellished version of the truth – something about defeating a Basilisk with potent fire magic, complete with obscene gestures.

“And there he is!” Jaskier yells, gesturing toward Geralt with a mug of beer. “The hero of the hour, slayer of beasts, the White Wolf himself!”

The townspeople turn to stare at him, their eyes beady and keen.

“Shut up, Jaskier,” he snarls, and goes back to his beer.

* * *

Another town, another job, this one to hunt a nest of kikimores, but even Geralt can admit he needs backup when taking on a queen.

So he enlists a few mercenaries. Fickle they may be, and not to be trusted in a corner, but they know how to wield a blade and they aren’t afraid of the dark. 

“You can’t!” Jaskier bursts in, wailing. “Taking down an entire nest on your own, it’s madness! Are you trying to give me a stress hernia? I swear to god –”

The mercenaries mutter to each other under their breath.

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt calls. “We’ll be fine.”

* * *

  


“I told you,” Jaskier scolds. “Damn it, Geralt, I _told_ you to watch out for that ghoul.”

Geralt would shrug, but the ghoul removed quite a chunk from his shoulder and he’s loath to jostle it. He settles for grunting instead.

“But no, you have to go out and play the hero, and now it’s up to me to patch you up. Do I look like a healer to you, hmm? Do you imagine I had time to study medicine in between composition and the lute? Do you think I’m equally skilled in all imaginable areas? I mean, I can see why you would think that, given my broad and varying talents, but I do in fact have my limits.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt thrusts a bandage and a bottle of salve at him. 

Jaskier takes it and glares, his mouth pinching into a tight line.

* * *

“Hand him over,” Geralt spits, voice very low and very angry. “If you harm him, I assure you, you will regret it.”

The mage twirls Jaskier around, wrapped in golden threads of magic. Jaskier’s eyes are blinking furiously but his lips are bound shut.

“This bard is of no use to me,” the mage says, voice dripping with disdain. “He was merely bait. I have need of a witcher, and you’ll be coming with me, willing or no.”

Geralt assess his chances: one mage, a room full of acolytes, him unarmed, and Jaskier a hostage. He grunts.

“Take me, then,” he says, walking forward without fear. “Let the bard go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Jaskier’s eyes are wide. He shakes his head and wrenches his mouth open. “Geralt, no, you can’t -”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” he says. There is no argument to be had.

* * *

Another shitty inn, this one made of brick rather than wood, with low tables and a wide fireplace where only glowing embers remain.

The room deserted, everyone having since long gone to bed, a chill setting into the air.

Jaskier curled up on his lap, nestled close to his slowly-beating heart, huddled beneath a thick fur blanket.

“Butcher of Blaviken, men call you,” Jaskier mumbles into his chest.

He grunts. 

“If only they could see you now,” Jaskier says, running fingers idly through his hair, tone light and teasing. “Soft and tame as a household cat.”

Geralt grunts again. 

“You’ve a gentle heart, don’t try to deny it. You can’t fool me.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” he says, and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on tumblr [here](https://valdomarx.tumblr.com/post/190667852484/some-tumbledown-inn-in-some-shithole-town-watery).


End file.
